Be Carefull What You Plan For
by Gen Asis
Summary: Some well known charicters are racking their brains to figure out how to make our lovable Boywhohateshyphens see life in a fun new light. But what if they are too late?


**A/N: this is the start of a story, an idea i had racing around in a little hampster wheel in my brain for the past week that keeps squeeking at me for attention and food. **

**on another note, i need a BETA. i fired my last one. as you can see by my update of CH 6 on SOF, they didn't do their job. if anyone is intrested PM me if you please, or just say so in a review.**

There comes a time in every young wizards life, where all they want to do with magic is play.

It comes at different times for everyone, and in turn, leaves him or her at different times.

Most of those experiences leave the person with a grater understanding of how they think, walk, talk and act towards others.

For some, they never grow out of it, and continue to play; becoming the very essence of life, for life is not worth living if you do not have fun.

Each generation has such.

For the generation of the '60's it was Serius Black. Having never grown up, and not wanting too, he became a type of lost boy, never going beyond that stage in life.

Now in Harry's generation there are two new lost boys, Fred and George Wessley.

The terrible Twins.

The owners and creators of Wessley's Wizarding Wheezes, or WWW for short.

The finders of the Marauders map.

And the unofficial bodyguards of a certain Boy-Who-Lived.

They had watched as Harry was sorted into their house.

They noticed his slightly haunted look and the terror of the unknown that rested just beyond the raven-haired child's eyes.

They saw how he flinched slightly from touches, no mater how slight.

They watched him.

Guarded him at night as best they could, using both their inventions and the map to keep up with the first year.

Then after the end of term, the trouble with the relatives.

Flying the Ford to number 4 Privet Dr. and rescuing the small lad.

Of telling their mum, in private, what they had been doing and why.

Then the year had started again, and this time, the shit really hit the fan.

They had to step up more to protect him from the higher-level years.

It had been tricky, but a few well-placed pranks soon had them all inline.

And when he had saved Ginny, well the twins would have at that point, gladly laid down their lives for him.

During that summer Ginny had come to them, asking them if she could help.

With a little reluctance, they had agreed, and now had Ginny's infamous Bat-Boggy hex to help them out.

Then came the year of "PadFoot" as the twins called it.

Their idol, hero and basic all around god deity had turned out to be none other then Harry's godfather.

Added to that, Moony had been their DADA professor and finding out they were protecting Prong's son…well it only seemed to cement their determination to protect the youngest and unofficial member of the clan Wessly.

They had gone through the years, protecting in the background. Keeping his spirits up in the foreground and never once forgetting to wash behind their ears!

And now that the guy-with-to-many-damn-hyphens-for-his-own-fucking-name was at last gone, they could settle into the real task of enlighten Harry just how fun it could be to become the next generation of marauder.

Now they only had to come up with a prank worthy of the son of Prong's and the godson of Padfoot.

So many decisions, so little time.

But they did have a few months to plan, they were all teaching this year at Hogwarts.

Hermoney as the history of magic professor (Harry had accidentally/on purpose exercised the ghost of Binns).

Ron was becoming the new quidich and broom instructor, as madam Hooch had been offered a job coaching for the Chudly Cannons (the twins still haven't figured out how she landed that job.)

The twins, having on the side gained their masters in potions, were now teaching that position.

No need to explain what happened to the Slimy Git.

And Harry…well Harry was teaching the one class that no one could come close to him in, DADA.

Now to decide what to do to him first.


End file.
